


fatherhood

by rereremu



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: DadSchlatt, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:39:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29085504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rereremu/pseuds/rereremu
Summary: ("What the fuck, Schlatt?"  Wilbur had murmured, immediately rushing out into the snow to help his friend inside."He-He was freezing, Wilbur," Schlatt's words had been pricked by concern. "Someone- Someone left him out in a cardboard box, Wilbur-! How sick- How sick is that?!")The night before Christmas Eve, Schlatt became a father.
Relationships: Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot
Comments: 13
Kudos: 266





	fatherhood

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! okok first work in this fandom and on my profile okoko nice very sick very very sic  
> dadschlatt,.,..,., i wrote this for a friend at like 1:41am in aus on a sunday and it's kinda short but i haven't written in a while so please;;;; excuse my rustiness thanku ,..,,.

Schlatt had never been an overly affectionate person. Even if someone were to remove the 'overly', it'd still ring true.

Schlatt was the sort of man to scowl whenever anyone got too close. His sneer was angry enough, malicious enough, that anyone who got near enough was sent running to the opposite hill within the time it takes for him to click his fingers. His appearance, with large, bucking ram horns that curled around his head, and his ratty, blue sweater, and that seemingly permanent smell of cheap cigarettes and potent alcohol that seeped into the air whenever he was around was _exactly_ like people repellent. And since Schlatt wasn't an affectionate person, he preferred to keep it that way. 

People shied away from him like they'd shy away from politics at the dinner table. They'd grimace, recoil, in disgust whenever he opened his mouth - almost as though he had just taken a giant dump and wiped standing upright directly in front of him. 

It wasn't surprising, really. Just from his unkept appearance, others would have easily guessed Schlatt's jagged personality from a mile away. He was rough around the edges, sharp in bits you wouldn't normally expect, and he preferred people to leave him alone while also keeping their grubby-fucking-mitt for hands off of his skin, clothes, and horns. 

Even Wilbur, patient son-of-a-bitch he was, one of the only friends Schlatt had, could only get a fist bump when the both of them were equally hammered. And Wilbur was never hammered. 

Contact with Schlatt, with just how rare it was, was almost like... a privilege. 

( _A privilege._ Schlatt would've laughed.)

(As though there were actual people waiting in a line _wanting_ to touch him.)

So, when Schlatt became a father, it was a surprise to- well. _Everyone_ with how much he subverted expectations. The man wasn't a good one- by no means was he deserving of any awards as the World's Best. The man still drank, still smoked, still kept his appearance unruly, his clothes messy, still cursed and cracked jokes that shouldn't have been said even in front of _God_ , and the only thing to his name was an empty wallet with three or four flies jumping out of it each time he opened the flap. 

…But he wasn't _bad._

Tubbo had arrived in Schlatt's arms wrapped in a baby blue blanket on December 23rd directly on Wilbur's doorstep. The boy looked as though he hadn't even spoken his first _word,_ yet there were already nubs peeking out of his head full of hair and had fur-covered ram ears so big that they already drooped directly to frame his round face. Snowflakes had made their residence on both Schlatt _and_ the kid, and Will's first instinct was to drag them inside, questions disregarded. 

("What the _fuck,_ Schlatt?" Wilbur had murmured, and immediately rushed out into the freezing cold to help his friend inside.

"He- He was _freezing,_ Wilbur," Schlatt's words had been pricked by concern. "Someone- Someone left him out in a _cardboard box,_ Wilbur-! How sick- _How sick is that?!")_

The night before Christmas Eve, defying all circumstances, Schlatt became a father. 

Wilbur saw this. Wilbur saw black coffee brown turn into warm chocolate caramel right in front of his eyes. Those colours were paired only by the two brightly hued jades that signalled _life._ He saw his friend's calloused hands, padded pink from his hybridised genes, gently rub away the dirt from the child's face with a gentleness he had never even _seen._ Wilbur saw Schlatt's jaded self smooth down as though rubbed with sandpaper by the very bundle of absolute joy he held within his arms, and hadn't _that_ been a welcome surprise? 

Tubbo had come from greener pastures untouched. He had descended right down from the heavens and directly into Schlatt's arms - a gift from God, almost a message telling him to get his own goddamned act together. 

And Schlatt did. At least, there was an _attempt,_ and that was more than Schlatt had done every since graduating college as a business major. 

The dark eye bags which had once been a permanent sign of stress had been cleansed from the creases of his eyes. His lips were pulled upwards into a smirk more often than not, exposing white teeth which Wilbur hadn't noticed before. He seemed... happy. He smiled more, grinned more, _laughed_ _louder_ whenever Tubbo was in the same room as him. His eyes sparkled more often and a skip in his step (which Wilbur had lovingly teased him about) had begun to form whenever he walked. His own breath smelt less like nicotine, and more like the beginnings and ends of a home cooked meal. Schlatt's appearance changed entirely, and it was all thanks to some kid he had found by the side of the road, on the night before Christmas Eve.

(Wibur saw more of Schlatt, too. Phone calls became common, and were exchanged between the two in the midst of nights with Schlatt panicked and frantic while Will had to calm him down with a _no, Schlatt,_ you're _not_ a bad father and _no,_ Tubbo _doesn't_ hate you.)

("What sorta name is Tubbo, anyways?" 

"Tubbo-in-a- _box,_ Will, are you thick? _Tubbox!!!")_

Wilbur had seen first hand what fatherhood had done to others. After all, he was a father himself, wasn't he? But, no where else, did he see such a drastic change. 

Schlatt... _changed_. Evolved, almost. He was an entirely new man who had now _just_ found a new purpose to live. And, sure, there still some days in which Schlatt would regress back to his old ways (days which Wilbur wouldn't know about until Tubbo grew _much_ older), but Schlatt was happy, Tubbo was treated well, and that was enough. 

Tubbo himself was great, too. More than great. Wonderful, fantastic- he really was. The kid was all smiles and giggles, _especially_ around his dad. His favorite animals were bees and Tubbo always carried around this well-loved bee plushie at the same time as he wore his little green sweater and small overalls with a yellow-striped bucket hat which Phil had knitted for him as a gift. He always clutched onto Schlatt's hand so tightly, and Schlatt would squeeze back, and the two were a perfect, inseparable duo that were seen _everywhere_ except for _anywhere without_ each other. 

("What's it like being a dad, Schlatt?" Wilbur poured himself another drink. "What's it like taking care of two people instead of just one?" 

Schlatt bit the inside of his cheek, eyes flickering over to Wilbur. His eyebrows raise, but he downs his entire cup of water before getting up - moving towards the kitchen sink. "I think it suits me." 

His tone is boastful, though kind, loving. 

"DadSchlatt. Ain't that gotta nice ring to it? Suits me, don't'cha think?" 

Wilbur wanted to sock him. Gently. 

He doesn't speak, only tips his own head back with a smile as the beer slides down his right. He was wrong, Schlatt was.

DadSchlatt didn't suit him. 

But Fatherhood did.)


End file.
